The Oracle's Queen
“Companion, you will address your liege with the proper respect!” Porion barked.
Quivering with outrage, Lutha shut his mouth and fixed his eyes on the floor.
“You will mind your tongue or lose it, my lord,” Niryn said. “Speak the truth, or I will compel you.”
“I always speak the truth!” Lutha retorted, not bothering to hide his disdain for the man.
“I’ve sent my best trackers after him,” Niryn told him. “Lord Caliel will be found and brought back very soon. You only do yourselves harm by lying for him. He’s gone over to Prince Tobin.”
Lutha ignored him. “On my honor as your Companion, Korin, Cal said nothing about leaving or going back to Ero, and we never planned to desert. I swear by the Flame.”
“As do I, Majesty,” said Barieus.
“Yet you admit to sympathizing with the false queen?” Niryn said.
“Sympathizing? I don’t know what you mean,” Lutha replied. Korin was still impassive on his throne, and the distrust in his eyes scared Lutha. “We only thought it was odd you wouldn’t let us go find out the truth about Tobin. But Cal never said anything about leaving! He’s as loyal to you as I am.”
“That may not count for much, Majesty,” Niryn sneered. “If you will allow me, I can soon give you the truth.”
Lutha’s heart sank as Korin nodded. Niryn stepped down from the dais and motioned to the men flanking Lutha. They grabbed his arms, holding him fast.
Niryn stood before him, and made no effort to hide his nasty, gloating smile. “This may hurt a bit, my lord, but it is your king’s will.”
He clasped Lutha under the chin with one cold hand and laid the other on top of his head, palm to Lutha’s brow. His touch made Lutha shudder, like having a snake crawl across your bare foot in the dark. He fixed his gaze on the wizard’s chest. The white robe was spotless, as always; Niryn smelled of candles and smoke and something sweet.
Lutha had nothing to hide. He concentrated on his loyalty to Korin until a bolt of searing pain obliterated all conscious thought. It felt like his head was being crushed and plunged into fire, all at once. He didn’t know if he was still on his feet or not, but felt like he was falling endlessly into a black pit. Despair swept aside pride; he wanted to cry, scream, beg Korin or even the wizard for this torture to end. But he was blinded and lost, his tongue numb in his mouth.
It went on and on, and just when he thought he would die from the pain, he found himself on his hands and knees in the stale rushes at Niryn’s feet, gasping for breath. His head throbbed horribly and his mouth tasted like bile.
Niryn was already gripping Barieus’ head in the same manner. Lutha watched helplessly as his friend stiffened and went white.
“Korin, please! Make him stop,” Lutha begged hoarsely.
Barieus let out a strangled whine. His eyes were open, but unseeing, and his fists were clenched so hard his knuckles showed white through his sun-browned skin. Niryn looked serene, as if he were healing the boy rather than tearing into his soul.
Lutha struggled unsteadily to his feet. “Let go of him! He doesn’t know anything.” He grabbed at the wizard’s arm, trying to stop him.
“Guards, restrain him,” Korin ordered.
Lutha was too weak to fight but he did anyway, struggling fruitlessly between the two guardsmen.
“Lord Lutha, don’t! There’s nothing you can do,” one of them warned.
Niryn released Barieus and the boy collapsed unconscious to the floor. The guards let go of Lutha and he fell to his knees beside him. Barieus’ eyes were tightly shut, but his face still bore a look of utter horror.
“They speak the truth regarding Lord Caliel, Your Majesty,” said Niryn. “They know nothing of his disappearance.”
Was that relief in Korin’s eyes? Lutha was weak with it himself, but it proved short-lived.
Niryn gave him a withering glance. “However, I do find in both of them a strong loyalty to Prince Tobin. I fear their love for him outweighs their loyalty to you, Majesty.”
“No, that’s not true!” Lutha cried, but even as he said it, he feared it might be true. “Please Korin, you must understand. He was our friend! He was your friend! We only wanted you to talk with him, as he asked—”
Korin’s eyes went hard again. “How do you know of that?”
“I—That is, Cal and I—” The words died on his lips.
“He admits to his spying, Majesty,” Niryn said, shaking his head. “And now Caliel has gone to Tobin, no doubt to give him all the particulars of your strength here.”
“No, Caliel wouldn’t,” Lutha said weakly, cringing under the hostile looks from Korin and the other Companions. He knew then that he was lost. He would never be allowed to stand with them again.
Barieus stirred and opened his eyes, then shivered as he saw Niryn standing over them.
Korin stood and advanced on them. “Lutha, son of Asandeus, and Barieus, son of Malel, you are cast out of the Companions and condemned as traitors.”
“Korin, please!”
Korin drew his dagger, his face harsh as winter. The guards held Lutha and Barieus tightly as Korin stepped down from the dais. He cut off their braids and cast them at their feet, then spat in both their faces.
“You are nothing to me, and nothing to Skala. Guards, take them back to their cell until I decide their sentence.”
“No, Niryn’s lying!” Lutha howled, struggling as the guards dragged him and Barieus away. “Korin, please, you have to listen to me. Niryn’s evil. He’s lying to you. Don’t believe him!”
He got no further before his head exploded with pain again and the world went black.
His head still hurt terribly when he came to, and for a moment he thought he’d been struck blind. He could feel that he was lying with his head in someone’s lap and heard the sound of Barieus’ soft weeping, but he couldn’t see a thing. As his mind cleared he recognized the smell of moldy hay and knew they were back in the cell. Looking up, he found the chinks in the wall, but the light was much fainter now.
“How long was I asleep?” he asked, sitting up. He felt gingerly at the back of his head and found a sizable lump, but no blood.
Barieus wiped hastily at his face, probably hoping Lutha hadn’t heard him crying. “A few hours. It’s past midday. I heard the drum beat for the guard change.”
“Well, looks like we’re for it now, eh? Cal was right, all along. Niryn has just been biding his time.” Lutha clenched his fists in helpless anger.
“Why—” Barieus paused, shifting uncomfortably. “Why do you think Caliel left us behind?”
“He wouldn’t desert us, not if he meant to go over to Tobin’s side. I still think he’s dead.” He’d rather that was the truth than think that Caliel had betrayed them.
Nalia lingered on her balcony, waiting nervously to see what was going to happen to the poor boys who’d been dragged out to the cells.
Tomara had brought word of the uproar with the morning tea. Shortly after she arrived with the tray, they heard the clatter of hooves and watched as parties of armed men rode off north and south at a gallop.
“They’re after Lord Caliel,” said Tomara, shaking her head. “We’ll see his head on a spike before the week’s out.”
“How horrible!” Caliel had been particularly kind to her. He was handsome, too, with his golden hair and dark eyes. Korin had always spoken of Lord Caliel as his dearest friend. How could he give such an order?
Nalia had little appetite for her bread and eggs that morning. For the past several days she’d had spells of dizziness and moments of hot nausea that nearly sent her to the basin. She’d said nothing to Tomara or Korin. She’d learned enough from her woman’s prattling to realize what such distemper might signify. Her next moon flow was due in a few days and she was counting the days with a heavy heart. If she were with child, then Korin would never let her go.
Late-afternoon sunlight streamed down through the forest canopy, painting shifting patterns across
the moist earth of the game trail Mahti had been following.
Lhel and the Mother had been drawing him north and west instead of south this past week, toward the great bridge. At night, hidden away from prying eyes in forests or deep meadows, he played Sojourner softly and let the songs bring visions of landmarks and vistas to guide him. By day he let his feet take him where his heart guided, and he found them.
Mother Shek’met’s voice was stronger now, so strong that he stopped beneath the spreading arms of a grandmother oak and closed his eyes, swaying slightly as the witch marks tickled and burned under his skin. The sounds of the breeze and birdsong faded around him, obscured by the slow, deep beat of his heart. He brought the oo’lu to his lips and let the song take its own form. He did not hear it, but saw the pictures it made.
He saw a great sea, the one that lay on the other side of the great bridge. He’d heard tales of it and knew it by the lighter blue of its waters. Gulls flew in great flocks over it, and in the distance he saw a huge stone house with high walls.
The song told him of deep sorrow in that house, of spirits broken, and a cold heart that could not be warmed. His path lay in that direction, and he must hurry.
Quickly! the Mother whispered in the silences under the oo’lu’s song.
Mahti lowered the instrument and opened his eyes to find the sun nearly gone from the sky. Shouldering the oo’lu and his food bag, he hurried on. The swift-footed deer that made this path had marked the earth with their cloven hooves. The double-pointed marks guided his bare feet long after the stars came out.
Lutha and Barieus marked the passing of the day by the thin rays of light that tracked across the far wall. Darkness fell, but no one brought them food or water. They could hear guards outside shifting restlessly and muttering among themselves.
Moving slowly to spare his aching head, Lutha crept to the door, hoping for some word of Caliel, but the men outside talked only of gaming and women.
He explored the confines of the cell, even climbing up on his squire’s shoulder to reach the beams and thatch overhead. There was a bucket to piss in, and another for water, but no way out, not even for a clever rat like him.
Past hope, they fell asleep with their backs to the wall and woke the next morning to the grating of the bar. They blinked in the midmorning glare as another man was dragged in and slung down in the straw. He landed facedown, hands bound behind his back, but they knew Caliel by his blood-matted hair. From the looks of him, he’d been beaten and dragged, and probably put up a good fight besides. Two ragged tufts of hair at his temples marked where his braids had been.
The door slammed and for a moment Lutha couldn’t see a thing, still dazzled by the sudden light, but he crawled to Caliel and ran his hands over him, looking for wounds. There was a sizable lump on the side of his head and bloody abrasions on his arms and legs. He didn’t move, but moaned as Lutha felt his chest and sides. His breathing was labored.
“They cracked a rib or two, the bastards,” Lutha muttered. He freed Caliel’s hands and chafed the cold flesh to get the blood moving, then settled down beside him, with nothing left to do but await their fate. The light had shifted to midafternoon on the wall when Caliel finally stirred.
“Cal? We’re here with you. What happened?” Lutha asked.
“They caught me,” he whispered hoarsely. “Grey-backs—and one of those cursed wizards.” He struggled up, blinking in the dim light. The right side of his face was dark with dried blood and his lip was split and swollen. “They wouldn’t fight me properly, but came at me with cudgels. I think the wizard cast a spell on me in the end. I don’t recall anything after that.” He shifted painfully, favoring his side. “What are you two doing here?”
Lutha quickly told him what had happened.
Caliel groaned again. “But that’s why I left the way I did, so you wouldn’t be tied into it and get into trouble!”
“The Toad’s been carrying tales to his master. We’re accused of conspiring with you against Korin.”
Caliel sighed. “Tanil and Zusthra die, but a serpent like Moriel wiggles through and survives. Sakor’s fire, where’s the justice in that?”
“It’s Korin’s justice we’re facing now, and I don’t like our odds,” Lutha replied sadly. “Niryn’s cut us off from him, neat as a tailor.”
“I should have expected this. Damn, if only I’d been able to get away and talked sense to Tobin!”
“I’m sorry you got caught, but I’m glad to know that you didn’t just run off,” Barieus said softly. “At least I can think of that before they hang us.”
“Do you think they will, Cal?” asked Lutha.
Caliel shrugged. “I imagine they’ll hang me but you two didn’t do anything! It’s not right.”
“Nothing’s been right since we left Ero,” Lutha said glumly.
Niryn stood by Korin in the council chamber. He remained silent as the handful of lords debated the traitors’ fates, but he was not idle.
The corridors of the young king’s mind were familiar territory, but he still found surprising twists and turns there, walls of resistance that even his insinuations could not breach. Lord Caliel had been the catalyst for far too many of these, and that little rat-faced one was no better. Deep in his heart, Korin still loved them.
“Your Majesty, they have betrayed you,” Duke Wethring urged. “You cannot be seen as weak! They must be punished for all to see. All of them.”
Korin still clutched three slender braids in his hand: one blonde, one ruddy, and one dark.
Such loyalty, even after his friends have turned their backs on him, thought the wizard. A pity it is so misplaced. Niryn focused again and concentrated on the images it brought him of a younger Prince Korin, lost in the shadow of his family. Sisters who would be queen. Brothers with stronger arms, swifter feet. A father who’d favored this one or that, or so it had seemed to a little boy who was never quite certain of approval until plague carried away his competition. And then the guilt. Even with the others out of the way, he still wasn’t good enough. Niryn had long since found memories of overheard conversations—Swordmaster Porion instructing the other Companions to let Korin win. A deep wound, that, rubbed with salt. Caliel had known.
Niryn gently tended that deep-buried hurt. Korin didn’t suspect a thing, only felt his heart harden as he tossed the braids aside and gritted out, “Yes, you’re right, of course.”
Niryn was pleased.
It was evening when the door swung open again, and Niryn himself stood there, gloating. “You’re to be brought before Korin for judgment. Come now, or would you prefer to be dragged, as you deserve?”
“Be brave,” murmured Caliel as he rose unsteadily to his feet. Lutha and Barieus were already up. No matter what anyone said, they were Royal Companions; they cowered for no man, not even the king.
They stepped from the cell to find a tribunal waiting for them in the courtyard. The garrison was formed up in a hollow square around the yard, and Korin stood on the far side, flanked by Porion and his chief generals.
Their guards marched them to the center of the square. Niryn went to stand at Korin’s right hand, among the generals and nobles.
Lutha glanced around, searching faces. Many simply glared back at him, but a few could not meet his eye.
Korin was dressed in full armor and held the Sword of Ghërilain unsheathed before him.
Porion spoke the charges. “Lord Caliel, you stand accused of desertion and treason. You were expressly forbidden to go to the usurper prince, yet you stole away like a thief in the night to join his camp. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“What can I say, Korin, if you’re too blind to see the truth for yourself?” Caliel replied, lifting his chin proudly. “If you think I deserted you, then you never knew my heart as I thought you did. There’s nothing I can say now to change that.”
“Then you admit you were making for Prince Tobin’s army?” Niryn demanded.
“Yes,” Caliel replied, st
ill speaking to Korin, and Korin alone. “And you know why.”
Lutha saw Korin’s hand tighten around the hilt of his sword. His eyes went flat and dead as he proclaimed, “Disloyalty against one’s lord is the greatest crime for a warrior at any time, but in these dire days, when I expect those closest to me to set an example, it is all the more unforgivable. Caliel and Lutha, you have both questioned my will since we left Ero. I have shown forbearance, hoping you would mend your ways and be the loyal Companions I have known. Instead, you have fomented unrest and doubt among others—”
“What others?” Lutha demanded. “We were worried for you, because—”
A crushing force closed around his heart and throat, choking off his protest. No one else seemed to notice, but once again he found Niryn watching him with amusement. This was magic! Why couldn’t anyone see what he was doing? He swallowed hard, wanting to denounce the man, but the more he tried to force the words out, the harder the pain closed around his throat. He fell to his knees and clutched his chest.
Korin mistook his distress. “Stand up! Shame your manhood no more than you already have.”
It was hopeless. Niryn knew what Lutha wanted to say and was stopping the words in his throat. Staggering to his feet again, he croaked, “Barieus knew nothing of this. He’s guilty of nothing.”
Beside him, Barieus threw back his shoulders and said loudly, “I am Lord Lutha’s squire and follow him in all things. If he is guilty, then so am I. I am ready to share any punishment.”
“And so you shall,” said Korin. “For the crime of disloyalty, you shall first be flogged before this company. Twenty lashes of the cat for Lutha and his squire, and fifty for Caliel, for his greater crime. At dawn tomorrow you shall be hanged, as befits your false friendship and treachery.”
Lutha kept his head high, but he felt like a horse had kicked him in the belly. Despite his harsh words in the cell, he hadn’t really believed Korin would go so far. Even Alben looked shocked, and Urmanis had gone pale.
“All of them hanged?” asked Master Porion, his tone carefully guarded. “Lutha and Barieus, as well?”
“Silence! The king has spoken,” Niryn snapped, fixing the old swordsman with a sharp look. “Would you challenge His Majesty’s wisdom, as well?”